5. Selena #2
“It didn’t. The feeling is already too strong.
I can’t look at you without wanting you.
I can’t hear you move through this house without wanting to pull you somewhere private and keep you there.
I can’t let go of you anymore, Selena. Not when you’ve already given me pieces of yourself I never expected to have.
So if you’re going to keep coming to me, then stop fighting it for five minutes and let me take care of you. ”
He closes the last of the distance. One hand settles at the back of my neck, thumb stroking once along the side of my throat. The touch is firm, claiming, not gentle.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever ignore me like that again.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I whisper.
He leans in and kisses me. It’s slow at first, then deeper, the kind of kiss that feels like he’s been holding it back for days. My hands curl into the front of his shirt as I kiss him back.
When he finally pulls away, he guides me to the mattress and sits, drawing me down so I straddle his lap.
The hard length of him presses into me through the thin layers of my sleep shorts and his dress pants.
Desire spikes low in my belly, sharp enough to steal my breath.
My hands land on his shoulders for balance.
His skin is warm even through the shirt, the muscles shifting under my palms as his hands settle on my waist.
I rock once without meaning to, a small, instinctive roll that grinds me along the thick ridge of his cock. The friction is immediate and filthy even with the clothes still between us. A soft sound slips out of me before I can stop it.
“I-I’ve never done this before,” I whisper, cheeks burning. “I don’t know how to?—”
Soren’s hands tighten on my waist, steadying me, not stopping me. He reaches for the hem of my sleep shirt and slowly lifts it, gathering the fabric up under my chin so both of my swollen breasts are bare and free for him. His warm palms cup them fully.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just show me what you can do. I’ll guide you.”
I grind down along the hard length of him in slow, deliberate circles while he works my bare breasts with steady, knowing hands. Every squeeze pulls more milk onto his fingers and down my stomach.
My clit drags along the thick ridge of his cock through the thin fabric of my shorts again and again until the pleasure tightens low in my belly, sharp and almost painful in its intensity.
He guides the angle of my hips with one hand on my ass, teaching me the exact pressure that makes my breath stutter. His other hand keeps massaging the heavy ache from my breasts, thumb circling a soaked nipple until another thick stream of milk spills down.
I feel clumsy compared to the controlled way he moves me, but he never lets me feel lost. He just keeps adjusting, correcting, showing me.
Halfway through another slow grind, his phone starts buzzing hard in his pocket.
But Soren doesn’t stop moving me.
He pulls the phone out with one hand while the other stays locked on my waist, keeps me grinding exactly where he wants me, and switches it to speaker without looking away from my face.
“I’m not gonna let this interrupt us again. Continue what you’re doing. Just don’t make a sound.”
His firing eyes stay locked on mine the whole time as he sets the phone on the mattress beside us and switches it to speaker so the PA’s voice fills the quiet room.
The order sends a sharp pulse of heat straight between my legs.
Knowing he is on a call, that someone is speaking to him while I am still grinding along the thick ridge of him and feeling every hard inch of its outline through the soaked fabric, with my shirt still bunched under my chin and his hands full of my leaking breasts, turns me on so much the thrill of it makes me wetter.
I roll my hips harder on purpose, teasing him, watching his jaw tighten as he tries to keep his voice even for the PA.
I lean in close to his ear, voice barely a breath.
“Like this?”
His fingers dig into my waist in answer. A quiet, rough sound leaves his throat before he covers it with another short reply to the PA.
I grind slower, deeper, dragging my clit along the thick ridge of him through the wet fabric of my shorts, deliberately testing how much he can take while still sounding composed on the phone.
I hear more of the conversation. It’s about how the public interest is only going to get bigger and how the company is already talking about leaning into visibility.
“The numbers keep climbing, Sir,” the PA says. “Our last post hit almost twice the usual engagement. People are starting to recognize your face more. A few comments are even joking that you should try showbiz next with that kind of attention.”
Soren’s jaw tightens, but his voice stays measured when he answers.
“Alright. Just keep monitoring it.”
“By the way, Sir. A TV channel wants to do a live interview with you,” the PA informs.
“Okay. I’ll look into it.”
The call ends.
Soren hangs up and his hands return to my bare waist at once, grip firmer now, fingers pressing into the soft skin above my shorts as he looks up at me with that dark, knowing heat.
“You were teasing me earlier, huh?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Good. I wanted to.”
The dark heat that flashes in his mismatched eyes is the only warning I get before his hand slides up to the back of my neck and he pulls me into a hard, deep kiss—rough, claiming, full of every frustrated day I spent locking him out.
His mouth claims mine like he’s done holding back. I melt into it, moaning into his lips, still grinding down along the thick ridge of his cock through our clothes.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his voice turns low, “You want to tease me? Then, take what’s coming.”
He reaches for the tank top still bunched under my chin, pulls it the rest of the way off in one quick motion, and throws it aside.
I have a feeling that he’s about to give me the hard fuck my body is already aching for. I am so turned on it hurts, milk still dripping in slow warm trails onto the front of his dress shirt while my shorts stay soaked through from how hard I have been grinding on top of him.
Yet the words I overheard from the call stay stuck in my chest like a second heartbeat.
The rising public attention. If he becomes more known, more watched, there will be no hiding this. No quiet third floor nights. No pretending the rest of the world does not exist.
The hard truth settles in: with the way his name is starting to spread, we cannot keep this.
Soren is already at my neck, mouth open, teeth and lips dragging hard into my sensitive skin there like he’s about to mark me.
At the same time, his hand slides down, slips under the waistband of my shorts, and pushes two fingers inside me without warning.
The heat of both sensations makes my eyes flutter shut for a second, until the weight of what I just realized forces the words out.
“I need you inside me…” My voice is barely a whisper, shaking with how much I mean it. “But we can’t.”